Throw Those Curtains Wide
by igottagetbacktohogwarts
Summary: My contribution to Olympic!Klaine. Blaine Anderson the Olympic-Gold-Medalist-Boxer searches for French Gymnast Kurt Hummel at the Olympic closing ceremony to confess his true feelings. Just a drabble that begged me to be written.


**And here, at the eleventh hour, is my contribution to Olympic!Klaine. Enjoy! (: Don't own the characters or the song _One Day Like This _by _Elbow._**

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Blaine pushes past people as he shoves his way through the throngs of people pouring into the Olympic stadium. The United States team have long since disappeared somewhere behind him, and the fact that he's now an Olympic gold medallist whose supposed to be with the rest of his team is somehow of little concern to him right now. The only thing he's thinking about right now is finding Kurt Hummel, the beautiful gymnast (and triple gold medallist for Floor, the Pommel Horse and the Still Rings) from the French National Team.

_Throw those curtains wide!_

The music is pounding through his body making his bones vibrate and making it impossible to string together a coherent thought. The only thing he's sure of is that he really, _really_ needs to find Kurt and tell him the truth – the truth, in this case being that he (Blaine) is a jackass and that he's sorry and that he _loves him_. Because honestly – telling Kurt, the person he's pretty sure he's in love with, that he didn't want to go public because he wasn't ready to come out, was the biggest, most cowardly lie he'd ever told. Because a) His sexuality is the worst kept secret in the world – everyone, the team, the press, the fans, they _all_ know he's gay, it's just nobody seems to mention it, and b) because the only reason he told Kurt the stupid lie in the first place was because he was utterly frightened by how hard and how fast he'd fallen for the other man. Incidentally he'd realised how much of an idiot he was about ten seconds after Kurt had walked out of his room with tears in his eyes and harsh (but true) parting words. (_Oh, grandir un peu, Blaine. Savez-vous ce que le pire est? Honnêtement, je pensais que vous étiez different_.)

(_Oh, grow up, Blaine. Do you know what the worst part is? I honestly thought that you were different._)

_One day like this a year to see me right!_

He accidentally smacks into someone in his haste and they yell at him in a language that sound a lot like German, but he can't be sure. He can't believe the sheer volume of _people_ in the stadium right now and he feels a shot of panic when he realises how small the odds are that he will actually find Kurt in the mess, but it somehow serves as determination and he moves faster, faster, faster until he sees a large group of people with French flags. He's almost running now, darting between the cameras and the gamemakers and the athletes and the few remaining performers until he's close enough to recognise that Kurt isn't part of this group. He stops dead and drags one hand through his hair feeling frustrated and guilty and so scared he feels sick – because he _knew_ he was going to fuck it up. He just _knew_ it. He turns to dejectedly head back in search of the American team so he can at least be consoled by the fact that Nick, Jeff and Santana will take him out for a drink (or twenty) tonight in the vain hope of forgetting about this whole stupid day – and runs smack into someone. Someone with chestnut hair and alabaster skin, who shouts "_Merde! Oh mon dieu, je suis tellement désolé!_" when they both almost fall flat on their asses.

(_Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!)_

"Kurt?! Kurt, oh my god!" Blaine yells, pulling the shocked (and slightly sad looking) boy into his arms.

"Blaine? Qu'est-ce-" Kurt starts, sounding completely surprised.

(_Blaine? What—)_

_Throw those curtains wide!_

Blaine steels his nerves – now is so not the time to chicken out. He's really going to do this. He turns his head so his lips are pressed against Kurt's ear, so he knows Kurt will hear him.

"Kurt, je suis tellement, tellement, désolé. Je sais que je suis probablement trop tard, et vous avez probablement me haïr au-delà de la réparation, mais-Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, Kurt et je ne veux pas te perdre quand tout cela est fini." He knows his French is stilted and far from perfect, but he knows Kurt understands him because Kurt moves his head so that _his_ lips are pressed to Blaine's ear.

(_Kurt, I'm so, so, sorry. I know I'm probably too late, and you probably hate me beyond repair, but- I love you. I love you so much, Kurt and I don't want to lose you when all this is finished_.)

"I knew you'd come to your senses eventually," Kurt teases him in that beautiful French accent of his, and Blaine's arms tighten around his waist, "I- I love you, too, Blaine."

_One day like this a year we'll sing it right!_

Blaine gathers his courage once again, then leans back just far enough that he can press his lips to Kurt's.

_Finally._

Kurt lets out a surprised little whimper against his lips before one hand tangles in Blaine's hair and he kisses him back.

They don't care who could be watching, that they are surrounded by almost 11,000 athletes from 102 countries and 80,000 spectators and that press and media from all over the world could be focusing on absolutely anyone at anytime. They've found each other - and this time they're not letting go.


End file.
